


Say Geronimo

by spinnd



Series: Half and Half [3]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dwalin Is A Softie, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Young Dwalin, Young Thorin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-16 18:01:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3497681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinnd/pseuds/spinnd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I broke your nose at a mosh pit" AU - because them folktronica parties sure are wild. A prompt fill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say Geronimo

**Author's Note:**

> For the "meet ugly" writing prompt collection on [Tumblr](http://spinnd.tumblr.com/post/112032007238)

"Are you okay?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Are you sure you're okay?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Because your nose is still bleeding -"

 

"Please go away."

 

Dwalin twitched, slightly offended by that. He was, after all, merely trying to help. To make things worse, his brother was also shooing him away with a wave of a hand, and switched a new tissue under the kid's nose, dumping the first damp red wad to the side of the road.

 

"I'm Dwalin."

 

Two pairs of eyes raised to meet him incredulously.

 

"Dwalin, this is not the time," Balin said, slowly, with exceedingly strained patience. The other boy just continued to stare at him from behind the cloth over his nose.

 

A younger boy, looking not-legal to be carrying the bottle of Coors, came running back from the payphone booth.

 

"I've called Ma. She's coming to pick us up."

 

"Damnit, Frer, not Ma!" The elder brother groaned, wincing as he pinched his nose bridge too hard. "She's going to worry. And she'll tell Pa. And then _he_ will worry - and you _know_ what he's like when he worries."

 

Frerin shrugged sheepishly. "Yeah, they want to take you to hospital. Get your nose checked out."

 

"Well if they have to take off some of it, they can have it. I've got plenty of nose to spare." Thorin groused.

 

Dwalin frowned. Kid obviously didn't like some of his facial features. Couldn't see why, though - he had very nice facial features. A nice nose, even.

 

As if he'd read his mind, Thorin swung a glance at him again, eyes narrowed concernedly.

 

"What? Did I say that out loud?" He said out loud, and earned himself a puzzled look, this time from all three of the other boys present.

 

 _Right._ He cleared his throat and looked away. _Stop, now._ Your _brain is running away with your mouth._

 

"Did Thorin hit you too?" The young one, Frerin, asked curiously.

 

"Nope." Thorin's words choked slightly on the blood sliding down his throat, and he made a small gag. "Ugh. No, he just got the one smack in, Frer. I was probably out before I hit the floor."

 

"I said sorry!" Dwalin glowered hotly, embarrassment welling up again. He had never headbutted anyone in his life, accidental or otherwise.

 

"Settle down, you two," Big Brother Balin scolded lightly, tutting as the tissue jostled from Thorin's nose. "Dwalin, go sit somewhere for a bit. Thorin, right? Stop moving, or you'll start up the bleeding again."

 

Dwalin grudingly sat off to one side, but was joined a few minutes later by Frerin, who plopped down awkwardly beside him.

 

"I don't even like The Wood Elves," he muttered, glaring at the concert banner flapping happily around a lampost. Even having free tickets did not make up for this disaster of a night.

 

Frerin glanced at him, before taking a swig from his bottle.

 

"My brother doesn't either. He just came along as chaperone, 'coz our parents insisted. I'm Frerin Durin, by the way."

 

"Dwalin Fundinson. You didn't mind a chaperone? I would've hated Balin so much if he tried that." Dwalin thought back to his own teenage years with a concealed shudder. The angst, the fights. The mohawk.

 

Frerin laughed. "Not for me! I'm seventeen, I'm old enough to be a chaperone myself. We're both here for my sister."

 

Dwalin stopped picking at his nails; looked up, and around.

 

"And... where is your sister?"

 

Frerin's laugh died a strangled death. He scrambled to his feet, going a running shade of pale.

 

"Oh. By Mahal. _Dis!"_

 

From their left, another answering groan. Thorin lifted his hand away from his face, and the brothers stared at each other.

 

_"Ma's gonna kill us."_

 

* * *

 

"Hi."

 

Thorin looked up in surprise at the older boy standing at his front door.

 

"Hi," he answered, "what are you doing here?"

 

"Balin said I should apologise properly, since we were in a bit of a rush that night." Dwalin murmured, fidgeting with his tucked-in shirt.

 

Thorin smiled a bit. "Uhm, yeah, it was kind of rushed."

 

Between trying to find Dis, finding Dis, finding Dis with some _unknown guy_ exchanging numbers, Frerin exchanging fisticuffs and Dwalin pulling him away, to the Durins' family car pulling up and the three siblings piling in to a loud, animated lecture on _safety_ and _concerts_ and _well_ _at least you didn't break anything valuable -_  a bit of a rush, all in, that night one week ago.

 

The Fundin brothers had waited in the shadows until the luxury BMW pulled away, before they had the all-clear to make a run for their beat up Toyota, and swiftly drove off.

 

"How did you get my address?"

 

"Frerin added me on Facebook?" Dwalin had, against his better judgment, accepted. And was rewarded with a deluge of PMs updating him on how things were with Thorin's nose and Dis' now-boyfriend, in addition to not-so-subtle hints in the form of a list of Thorin's top five nu jazz tracks.

 

Thorin sighed. "Mahal. That kid has no boundaries."

 

"I heard your nose was broken?" Dwalin took in the mild swelling still around Thorin's face, and the tape across that nose that shouldn't look so magnificent on an eighteen year old.

 

"Simple fracture. They realigned it, said it would be fine - was slightly crooked to begin with, so it might even be straighter now."

 

"Oh." Dwalin remembered his purpose for coming by, and unpacked a box of cookies from his rusack. "Well, here. My get-well present to you."

 

Thorin took the proffered box with a surprised laugh. "Really?"

 

"Really. I mean, I did break your nose, even if by accident. This is me making things up to you for getting yelled at by your parents and having to visit the hospital. And for having to sit through that snooze of a concert."

 

"You'll have to do better than this to make up for three hours of folktronica." Thorin grinned, and Dwalin felt his returning.

 

"Take this as a first step."

 

Thorin lowered his eyes almost shyly. "Thanks, anyway. Dwalin."

 

"My pleasure, Thorin."

 

"So," the blue eyes returned to his face, sparkling merrily. "Shall I add you on Facebook as well?"

 

Dwalin bit his lip, considering. Then reached into his bag and pulled out a pen.

 

"I'll do one better," he said, and scribbled his number on the cookie box. "Just don't let Frerin know."

 

"Nor your brother."

 

"Nor my brother."

 

He stepped back, and the two boys held each other's gaze for a long unbroken moment.

 

"Did we just get set up?" Thorin asked, hands still clutched around the box.

 

Dwalin shrugged, his grin full blown now. "I guess we'll just have to find out."

 


End file.
